Perhaps one of the most heart-warming sights is to watch little children performing. Whether that be dancing or singing (which I had the pleasure of witnessing both this weekend), the experience is second to none.
On Saturday night, Mila had her very first dance recital at the Academy of Performing Art's annual Night of Dance. I was unbelievably proud. And unbelievably nostalgic.
The last time I was in the Nauset Middle School auditorium, I was the one on the stage.
One of the few thoughts I had as I sat, transfixed, watching the older classes pirouette across the stage was that I miss dancing. I miss the feeling of flying with my feet on the ground, the familiarity of my jazz shoes, the leather stretched perfectly around my toes. I miss being able to touch my nose to my knees and to fall into a split. I miss dancing so hard that the sweat falls into my eyes and my legs turn into pillars of water.
I started going to Tara's African dance classes during the winter, but I miss jazz and ballet. I miss the fluidity of the movements and the stretching before hitting the dance floor. I'm tempted to sign up for a summer class, but with all the craziness of summertime on Cape Cod, I'm not sure if I'll be able to fit it into my schedule. I told myself I would never work three jobs at once ever again, but that may be happening this summer. What with Coastal Community Capital during the day, possibly waitressing several nights during the week, and change-over cleaning on Saturday's, I'm hoping that I'll still have a few precious hours for soaking in the sun on the beach.
Right now, the future is full of possibilities. I have more that I want to write about, but I will leave that for another time.
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